So Soon
by RaisedOnRadio
Summary: I'll shake his hand, and smile, and say I understand. Which I do, but it doesn't mean I don't think about you. / Oneshot, complete.


Title: So Soon

Word Count: 1,648

Summary: I'll shake his hand, and smile, and say I understand. Which I do, but it doesn't mean I don't think about you.

Notes: Based after the song "So Soon" by Marianas Trench. Dedicated to Coriana: Happy Birthday and thanks for brainstorming with me on this. :-)

* * *

_He's not an anti-social person. He just doesn't like people._

Twenty-year-old Oliver leaned against the wall of dull red brick, recalling something his brother had said oh-so-long ago. It was no surprise why the memory had surfaced. The old building at his back had been converted into a modern-day conference center. It felt too small to host seventy-something guests, but they were all in there.

The late spring air was pleasantly warm, so he had slipped out the front door the first chance he could get. He still had some time before the lecture, and he preferred to spend it away from the crowds.

He wondered how he had gotten pulled into this. Madoka had understated it, as usual. _Just a short lecture. It'll be a small audience, in your home town. These people haven't seen the real Oliver Davis since the aluminum brick presentation…_

The Real Oliver Davis. It sounded like a stage name, which is why they expected him to perform for them. They were only going to get a simple speech – nothing amazing today.

He was around the side of the building, where he could see a back door. He entered through it and it led to the kitchen. The room was tiled in white and the counters were brushed stainless steel. People moved back and forth in a dance where no one managed to run into each other. The flurry of activity wasn't the same stress to Oliver as the people in the outer rooms. While everyone's attention seemed to be focused on him out there, here he did not exist if he was not a part of the employees' circle.

The head chef eventually glanced at him, then waved a ladle at a couple of serving girls who seemed to have forgotten what they were doing. With stifled giggles, they grabbed their trays and scurried off.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said.

"It's fine," the chef answered. "It's not the first time I've found the talent hiding in the kitchens." He waved the hand that still held the ladle. "There's a door to the right that leads backstage just for that purpose."

Oliver thanked him – he had been concerned about walking through the swinging doors the girls had just left through – and slid through the narrow side door.

Backstage was not quiet. Any person who felt they had donated enough was there. Oliver greeted each one, their faces quickly blurring into the next. No one attempted to shake his hand. He found it unsettling, as if he was some sort of deity. No, it was more like they thought he was a fragile figurehead who would shatter at a touch.

The room started emptying, and Oliver went looking for Madoka. She still held his notes – it probably had not been intelligent to let her hold them in the first place, since she was the type of person who would find it funny to send him on stage without anything planned. She had always gotten along well with Gene.

He found her chatting with a couple that had their backs turned away from him. The woman had short brunette hair and was wearing a pale pink dress with spaghetti straps, the skirt resting at the knee. She wore tan sandals with a low heel that gave her short stature a slight lift.

He stood a short distance away from the group, waiting to get Madoka's attention. She looked up and grinned. The girl she had been talking to turned around and waved.

It was Mai.

"Mr. Davis," she said, a grin on her face. "This place is beautiful; I'm so excited for your lecture."

Her accent was heavy, but overall her English had improved greatly from when he had first met her.

"You've probably heard everything that is in it already," Oliver said.

"True," she said, "but it'll be new for Jean."

Oliver's attention snapped to the man next to her. The man nodded and offered his hand to Oliver. "I'm sorry to catch you off guard," he said. "It's actually spelled like a pair of old blue jeans."

It took Oliver a moment to see why the man was apologetic. Many of these people here knew of Gene even if they had never met him. In fact, he could imagine Mai had told him quite a lot.

Oliver took his hand. It was a firm handshake, and devoid of any visions. Jean's hair was brown but darker than Mai's, cut in a short style. His face was fine-featured and when he spoke his voice lacked an accent. He looked to be a young man that traveled often, and probably spoke excellent Japanese. He had an air of self-assurance without a hint of being haughty.

Oliver knew he only came off as being haughty.

"Then please enjoy the lecture," Madoka said suddenly. "He's not the only speaker, so there will not be a chance for boredom."

Jean and Mai said goodbye and left to take their seats. Oliver watched them go until he felt Madoka press his notes into his hands.

"Showtime," she said softly.

"I didn't expect anyone from the Japanese branch of SPR to show up." He knew his voice sounded accusing.

Madoka said, "It was a surprise for me as well. Mai said Jean brought her. I guess he's well versed in psychic studies."

Quite a surprise. He finally picked up what was bothering him – she had called him Mr. Davis. Not Oliver, and certainly not Naru. She must have grown out of the nickname.

Martin Davis was the opening lecturer. Oliver could hear his adopted father's steady voice over the speakers. Luella stood behind the curtain, and Oliver came over to stand beside her.

She smiled at him. "You look nervous," she whispered.

"Hardly. Just ready for this to be over with so I can go back into hiding for another ten years."

"It hasn't been that long." She said with a shake of her head. She kissed him gently on the cheek. "I'm going to take my seat."

He heard Martin introduce him and he stepped onto the stage. His movements felt ungainly though he knew they did not look it.

The speech was ingrained into his thoughts and he had to wonder why he had worried about needing his notes. If he had not sought out Madoka, maybe he would not have seen Mai before the lecture. He could not decide if that would have been wrong or right.

He should have said something – she looked nice, maybe. Since he was too proud to say he missed her – however slightly – during the extended periods he was in England. But there was no reason, with her boyfriend standing next to her – a boyfriend that was so serious that he would fly her to England. Oliver had been the one who had rejected her in the first place. He did not know when she had stopped trying; he had thought she would always be there making eyes at him.

He realized he had stalled in his speech. He started again, somehow right in the place he had left off. Otherwise the lecture went flawlessly. Only the people who knew him well might have noticed he had not been paying attention to a thing he had said.

He was ready to just go home, but leaving now felt childish. He took one of the seats off to the side of the stage meant for the lecturers.

After the presentation was done, he sought her out. She was alone for the moment, Jean being caught by an older couple. She jumped when she realized who was standing next to her, a slight flush staining her pretty features.

"He seems like a nice guy," Oliver said. "You look happy."

"Thanks," was all she said.

They stood next to each other, their little bubble of silence seeming louder than the crowds around them. Oliver suddenly knew how very lonely she would have been if she had ended up with him.

"Jean's in Japan on an exchange program," Mai said. "He wants me to visit him in the U.S. when he goes back."

"You'll need to work on your English."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. Then she smiled. "You're right."

Her smile widened when Jean started coming towards her. Oliver saw the obvious happiness on her face and involuntarily stepped aside.

It seemed so soon for her to be moving on, though he knew his sense of time was distorted. It was already a few years since finding Gene's body.

Jean – that was a cruel twist of fate, yet it seemed right that he had the same name of the man who had been her spirit guide. Gene would have gotten a kick out of it.

"I'll probably see you the next time I'm in Japan," Oliver said. He and she both knew that he had been there less and less often.

Mai nodded, all traces of the flush gone. It was the only thing that might have led Oliver to believe she still cared for him. But there was no reason for him to care if she did. She would be happier with someone else. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to see it.

He was ready – no, needed - to leave.

"I wish you well," he said to her.

Mai fidgeted, looking like she had wanted to give him a hug but deciding against it. Not up to having her touch him, he just gave her a smile and clasped hands with Jean once more.

_What if_, he thought, _I told her here and now that I'm all figured out? _

_No. Maybe I just like how that sounds._

It was time to disappear for awhile. Immerse himself in the study of the dead, since he apparently could not handle the living.

He held his pride and walked away without a backwards glance.


End file.
